


here's where i'm comfortable

by unnohrian (cuddlebros)



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Sex, Mommy Kink, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Older reader, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlebros/pseuds/unnohrian
Summary: As time passes, your relationship with Mozu changes in ways you hadn't expected, but you love them, and her, all the same.





	here's where i'm comfortable

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically a sequel to 'let me show you how a kiss should taste', but you don't have to read that one to understand this one! However, please note that Mozu in this fic is 22/23, as is specifically stated in the last fic I wrote. I will continue to scream about FE's awful, vague ages forever.

Months after the moonlit night you had shared with Mozu, things between you two were only continuing to bloom. Falling in love with her had been easy, so easy that the shift was almost imperceptible—other than the loving kisses you shared now, and the easy way you fell into each other’s body when she was feeling bold, your relationship had changed remarkably little. An evolution so subtle that it felt inevitable.

Again and again she proved herself strong, and again and again you let her embrace those moments where tenderness was all you asked of her; times when you bared your heart and had to trust that she would care for those pieces of you just as well as she cared for the rest of you. You didn’t take it personally that she kept some of herself closed off, chalked it up to mourning, and unresolved anger, fear, and pain—because you knew things would come out, eventually.

Come out, they do.

* * *

It’s a cold night, one of the coldest you had felt since joining the army. Steam like puffs of smoke flow from your mouth even when you return to your room; it feels like the perfect night to spend with Mozu in your arms. Mozu, it seems, has different ideas.

Which is how you come to have your fingers almost knuckle deep in her, hidden under the warmth of the sheets on your bed.

From your position, you have to admit that this was a wonderful idea. As you ease your fingers into her, your tongue tracing shapes on her clit that she’s too blissful to follow, you feel the cold dissipate, a bone-deep warmth replacing it. It was the first time you’d tried anything penetrative, having wanted to take some time with her to show her how good this facet of sex could be, even if she hadn’t enjoyed it previously—and it was proving enjoyable for the both of you. Being able to feel her around your fingers…

“You’re so tight, darling, so sweet too! Were you thinking about this all day?”

She groans out an agreeing “mmh!”, and with a smile, you go back to using your tongue for more interesting things.

You weren’t expecting her to last too long with this new stimulation, so when she starts clenching down on you and you feel her taste change, you’re unsurprised. What does surprise you is what she calls out when she finally cums.

“ _Mama_!”

That was new.

Mozu, having realised her mistake, immediately begins pulling herself away from you—her legs pull away from their spot either side of your head, curling up under her. When your head emerges from under the blanket, you find her hiding herself with her arms, looking away from you in shame. Something in your heart pulls painfully seeing her so scared of you, makes bile rise up in your throat.

“S-sorry! I didn’t, you can—you, please…”

“Mozu,” you say softly, trying to calm her down, “it’s okay, sweetie.”

“It’s not! I… I was feeling so good and… I shouldn’t say things like that when I…”

“Were you… were you thinking I was someone else?”

Mozu looks at you, then, shocked. “N-no! No, I was thinking of you!”

“Okay, then,” you say, coming to sit next to her by the pillows of your bed. “Do you want to tell me what you _were_ thinking?”

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, but she leans into you all the same. She knows that you’ll throw your arm around her shoulders, knows you’ll hold her in that strong way that screams home to her. “It’s just… you’re… you make me feel like how my mama made me feel. So safe a-and loved, and like you… like you’ll be behin’ me whatever happens. Like you understand me to my centre.”

“Mmh,” you hum, rubbing the top of her arm in reassurance. “So you… think of me as your mama, sometimes?”

“Y-yeah,” she admits, “I know you’re a different person an’ all, but you have the same energy, and I just… it makes me feel safe.”

Safe. You can appreciate that—there’s nothing like the hug of a mother, the gentle, calming words of the woman who loves you more than anything to make you feel like you can do anything. It’s a privilege you remember—and still cherish—being the safety net of your own daughter. And now, even though she was grown, you know that you’d still do anything for her. You’d die for Effie, you’d kill for Effie; you would do the same for Mozu.

“If it makes you feel safe, honey, I’m glad you told me. Would you… do you want to call me mama when we try things in the bedroom, too? Does it help?”

“Feels right,” she whispers.

“Then we’ll try it,” you assure her, “the next time we’re playing, you call me mama if you want, honey, okay? And we’ll see how it goes.”

“...you don’t think I’m creepy? ‘r broken?”

“Oh, honey.” You ache for her, ache for the pain of feeling wrong in front of the person you love. Her eyes are pleading when you draw her face to yours, and you can’t imagine letting this beautiful girl feel wrong. “You’re not broken, you’re not bad, okay? Everyone needs something different, darling, in life, in love, as well as in sex. You’re still finding what you need, and I’ll be here with you while you do. I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers, and you kiss her once more before the two of you fall asleep, melded together against the cold.

* * *

‘ _See how it goes_ ’ indeed.

You had suggested trying thigh riding today, a way to get both of you off at once, and though Mozu was unsure, she agreed to try. Just a little oil, and a little maneuvering, and your darling girl was rutting wildly against your thigh like she’d been doing it for years.

“Feel good, baby?” you ask after a particularly strangled moan leaves her kiss-bruised lips. She kisses hard when you two are intimate, now, kisses like she wants to leave your lips bloody with the memory of her. She hasn’t bitten you, yet, but you don’t think you’ll mind if she does. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart, keep riding… just like that…”

A quiet cry of your name is followed by an even quieter cry of your new title. “Mama… please…”

Your reply is instinctual. “What do you need, baby?”

“Y-your fingers, please, mama… m-my clit, I can’t…”

Who were you to deny so sweet a plea? The tips of your fingers ever so gently flick at her engorged clit—larger than usual with arousal, yet still not picking up the friction as she rides your thigh. She sighs, nuzzles her head into your neck as you follow her clit. Every little flick has her making minute jumps, and you chuckle as she gets more and more desperate, aching to push herself into your hand more with every thrust.

“Your thighs are trembling, baby,” you coo, “are you getting tired?”

“N-no, mama, I—”

You cluck your tongue. “Don’t lie to me, honey. Liars don’t get their mama’s fingers.”

“Sorry, mama! ...I am getting tired, mama… I’m sorry…”

You coo at her again, your free hand coming to rest behind her neck in support. “My darling girl… You’ve done so well, today. Mama’s gonna help you cum, okay?”

She nods, and you let your fingers go to work, circling and flicking her clit faster and faster until you feel her shudder above you. Her cries are quiet, restrained, but you feel them in hot puffs against your collar. She rides out the end of her orgasm, then lets you pull her down until you’re lying together on the significantly ruffled sheets of your bed.

“How was that, honey? Did it feel better, using those names?”

“Mmh,” Mozu says, snuggling right into you. Her skin is lightly sweaty, but it’s not uncomfortable, her skin against yours. It never is. “Felt real… good. Not that it didn’t feel good before! But, it’s… it was different. I liked it a lot.”

“You wanna keep doing it?”

“Yeah. And… uh, [Y/N]?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Could I… could I call you mama even when we’re not doin’... bedroom things? Maybe not in front of the others, ‘cause I don’t think they’d understand, but when it’s just you ‘n me?”

You ponder it for a moment, letting your fingers trail her arm as you think. Before your relationship had become romantic, before it had become sexual, you had been happy to fill in that motherly role. And you were happy to add it into your sexual life when Mozu had asked. But to bring it concretely into your life outside of that… It was a different thing entirely. It was a privilege and a responsibility you weren’t sure you had earned, but _gods_ if you didn’t love being a mama.

“Sure, Mozu. If you want that, then we’ll do it. I’ll be your mama, and you’ll be my baby. That sound good?”

“Sounds perfect, mama. Thank you.”

* * *

A few weeks later, still settling into your new roles, you feel something you haven’t felt in decades.

In front of the mirror, things become a lot more obvious. Your breasts are straining at their bindings in a way they weren’t a few weeks ago, engorged and heavy when they’re let free. It’s a familiar heaviness, though, accompanied by a hardness you had been happy to leave behind. It was a little confusing, but you were certain: you were nursing.

You had been exclusive with Mozu for months now, and alone before that—you were certain you weren’t pregnant. And Effie, bless her, had been born more than two decades previously—so you knew that this wasn’t for your child, either. You’re still considering what’s going on when Mozu joins you in your bathroom.

“You okay, mama? You look all confused!”

“I _am_ a little confused, baby,” you say, still feeling at your breasts. Mozu comes to stand beside you, adding her quizzical gaze to your own in the mirror. It’s a testament to how far the two of you have come that she isn’t worried about walking in on you in various states of undress, anymore. “I… think I might be coming into milk, but I can’t quite work out why.”

“Might not be a reason,” she suggests. “I hear these things can just happen, sometimes?”

You make a noise of acknowledgement, though you aren’t convinced you agree.

“Would you mind undoing,” you gesture vaguely at your back, “for me, sweetie? I want to take a better look.”

“Course, mama.” Her fingers are so nimble and slim that you had taken to asking her to help you with your coverings, these days. It was lovely to get ready together in the morning, going about the day with the memory of her fingers on your skin, and heartwarming to feel that intimacy before you fell asleep. The more time your hands spent wandering each other in these more innocent ways, the more natural it felt when you dove into each other sexually.

She gathers your bindings, folds them up, and puts them away before joining you again.

“Wow, they really are lookin’ different,” she muses. “Mind if I feel ‘em?”

“They’re tender, but go ahead, honey—careful, though.”

Mozu nods, and lets her fingertips begin to explore the newness of you. It’s strange, and uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt, so you let her trace under the weight of your breasts, over the sensitive skin of the bulk of them, until they hesitate at your nipples.

“You’re leaking, mama…”

When you look down, you see she’s right. There are little beads of milk at the tip of your nipples, ready for fall. They don’t get the chance, though, before Mozu licks them off. “That was bold, little one,” you note with amusement.

“I-it looked so good, mama—” she says, looking up at you, and something clicks: Maybe you don’t have a new child, but you have a new dependent. You have someone who calls you mama, who needs you—and, your body thinks, needs milk. “And it’s so sweet!”

“Well, I think it might be for you, Mozu, so if you like it, drink up!”

“...for me?”

“I guess my body thinks it needs to start helping to keep you healthy, hm?”

She doesn’t need any prompting, latching her mouth onto one of your nipples almost hungrily. A little overeager, she backs off at the little whimper of pain you let out when her excited grip meets your tender skin. It’s a familiar sensation, but it feels alien all the same; Mozu isn’t a child, and you can feel her teeth bump up against you as she nurses, but you remember this whole situation with fondness.

“Does it feel good, mama?”

“It does,” you reassure her, your hand gently petting her hair. “It makes them a lot less tender, and you look _really_ cute drinking from me… how does it taste, baby?”

“Sweet! Real sweet… real rich, too!” So good, it seems, that she can’t bear to stay away; her mouth is on you again just as soon as she finishes speaking.

It’s a tender moment, but you can’t help feeling something more sensual stir at the same time. Your lover at your breast, the relief you feel as the pressure of your heavy breasts subsides—you feel no shame in letting out a moan, in letting one of your hands travel under you briefs to start to play with your wettening cunt.

“You’re good at that, little one,” you comment, petting her hair and slowly rubbing your clit at the same time. “Do you pick everything up so quickly?”

She parts briefly from you to speak. “Only when I have such a great teacher,” she says modestly, but when she latches back onto you, you feel her smile against your skin. She really has been learning, you think, because her fingers soon join yours in playing with your cunt. They’re tentative, but she touches all the right places—circling your clit, gathering some of the slick wetness that collects around you and easing her nimble fingers right into you. Two at a time—it could have been stretch, but she’s measured it well, knowing how lithe her fingers are and how aroused you are. “Mama, you’re so soft inside…”

“Mmh, you are too, sweetie! We’ll have to have you try yourself next time—oh, yes, honey, that’s the spot—”

“It feels good, mama?”

“ _Oh_ —yeah, baby, you’re doing great,” you assure her, bearing down on her fingers a little as if to prove it. “I’m… oh… I’m glad you’re feeling adventurous today!”

She hums, and the vibrations that sends through your nipple have you crying out. It’s too much, almost, too much stimulation from too many places, and though you feel like you’re falling, the strength of Mozu’s body in front of you keeps you upright. You can’t believe you still have milk coming, but when Mozu switches breasts, she finds you’re not out yet.

“B-baby… Mozu, faster, a little faster— _yeah_ , just like that, baby, great—”

When you look down, you find her eyes on you, intent and focused on your expression, and watch as a little trail of milk escapes her mouth. It’s an unbelievably hot scene, and just then her fingers thrust a little deeper, your fingers catch your clit at just the right spot—and you’re coming, loud and long and _hard_ , harder than you have in ages. Mozu’s fingers are coated in viscous cum when they leave you; you see her spread her fingers and marvel at the way it webs between them.

“Woah!”

You let out a little chuckle. “I forgot—you haven’t had your fingers inside me before, have you?” She shakes her head. “How did it feel?”

“Felt… real close to you, mama. I can see why you like doing it to me… You looked so beautiful when you came, too! ...I’m real lucky to have you, mama.”

Your eyes soften. She’s so cute—she’d just made you cum, and here she was, already coming out with sweet nothings. “I’m more than lucky to have you, too, sweetie.”

* * *

Kitchen duty is a necessary evil, but it keeps you away from Mozu for entire evenings at a time. It’s hard to care that it’s important to the army when you’re so far away from your baby. But eventually, the last dish is washed, and you’re free to hurry back to your quarters once more.

You try and make as little noise as possible when you head into your room, hesitant to wake up your sleeping partner—but when you open the door, you find Mozu decidedly _not_ sleeping. She’s atop your sheets, bare as the day she was born. Her head rests on your pillows, her eyes shut, legs bent towards her, and her hands working determinedly at her breast and her pussy in tandem. You weren’t sure she had heard you come in, and you’re content to watch her explore herself from the shadows, but she calls out to you, drawing you into the light of your room.

“Welcome home, mama! ...are you going to join me?”

Moments before, your exhaustion had you imagining the bliss of sinking into your mattress, but now, you think you’re totally ready for a round or two with your beloved, and slightly more confident, Mozu.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was commissioned! The ideas for a sequel to my other Mozu fic, the inclusion of the mommy kink, and the exploration of the kink were all ideas from the commissioner!
> 
> This one was a lot of fun to write! It was cool to explore the relationship between Mozu and the reader a little differently, and see the places where kink and life intersect outside the bedroom!
> 
> As always, if you see any mistakes, or have any comments, feel free to let me know in either the comments or at cuddlebros.tumblr.com! I'm not currently taking requests, but you can see the things people have requested there to get a feel for what's coming up!


End file.
